


Lifted Off His Deathbed

by nevercomestheday



Category: Reservoir Dogs (1992)
Genre: Blood, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Cuddling & Snuggling, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gunshot Wounds, M/M, Nightmares
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-14
Updated: 2015-11-14
Packaged: 2018-05-01 15:47:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5211617
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevercomestheday/pseuds/nevercomestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddy has a nightmare. Luckily, Larry is there to make things better... sort of.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lifted Off His Deathbed

**Author's Note:**

> Canon-compliant. Takes place several days before the heist. 
> 
> Title comes from the Tame Impala song "I Don't Really Mind."
> 
> Characters don't belong to me! Reservoir Dogs and its incredible characters belong to Quentin Tarantino.
> 
> Side Note- I always have to stop, go back, and correct myself whenever I type his name. I always want to type Tortellini.

Fire. The only way to describe the pain is fire. He’s thrashing around, trying to find a way to feel less, but everywhere is thick, sticky, red blood, and the searing follows him wherever he goes.

Every breath is torturous. Trying to speak is worse still.

“Larry!” he chokes out. “Larry, I’m sorry! I can’t believe she killed me!”

The vinyl car seats, once a clean off-white, are slick with red. Everything is red. His suit, his hands, his vision.

He keeps crying out to Larry, but he doesn’t respond.

“Larry! Fuck, Larry! Larry I need you!” Freddy is screaming, and when he blinks, Larry appears in front of him, no longer in the car.

In his hands are his pistols. "Two Guns."

He’s silent and cool, expressionless behind his shades.

“Larry, Larry please help me. I’m fuckin’ dying, Larry, please,” but Larry doesn’t even flinch.

The guns aim at Freddy’s head, fingers twitch against the triggers.

“Larry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he cries.

Larry just nods and pulls the trigger.

 

“Larry!” he groans, rolling in the sheets. “Larry!”

Warmth surrounds him, a soft hand on his shoulder pulling him close.

“Shh, hey… Hey, kid, it’s okay, I’m here… What’s the matter, you have a nightmare or something?” comes Larry’s soothing voice.

Freddy’s eyes finally open, and the first thing he sees is Larry reaching up to stroke his cheek.

It takes him a moment to realize he’s shaking.

He nods, snuggling up closer to Larry. “It was so scary… I was dyin’...”

He doesn’t mention who shot him.

“Well, don’t worry, it was only a dream, see? You’re completely fine.” Larry leans up to kiss Freddy’s temple and helps him shift so he can rest his head on Larry’s chest.

The soft thudding of Larry’s heartbeat and the soft rumbling of his voice bring Freddy back down to earth, pull him out of his terror.

“...and once the heist is over, we’re gonna take our cut and get the fuck outta dodge. I already know a little place just south of the border. You’re gonna love it down there, kid. It’ll just be the two of us and all the time in the world.” Larry sighs, stroking Freddy’s hair. “Just the two of us.”

The anxious knots return to Freddy’s stomach.

“Larry?” he murmurs. “Can we… Can we just run away now? I’ve got a bad feeling about the heist.”

That’s one way to put it.

Larry chuckles, his laughter booming in Freddy’s ear. “Aw, don’t be nervous. Everything will be okay. I’ve gotcha. I’ll make sure nothing bad happens to you.”

Freddy frowns out of Larry’s line of sight. There’s not much else he can say, so he just nods.

“Don’t worry ‘bout a thing.”

He wants to cry. “I love you, Larry.”

Larry squeezes him close. “I love you too, kid. More than you know.”

 

 

 


End file.
